


BANG!

by Eternallost



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Adrenaline, Death Wish, Desire, F/M, Guns, Knives, Millennial Humor, Morbid, Romance, Suicidal Thoughts, Suspense, it's about sending a message, mob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21524968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternallost/pseuds/Eternallost
Summary: A shuffle in the deck of the life of Harleen Quinzel brought on by the Joker.
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel
Kudos: 10





	BANG!

She was sitting at her part-time, office job typing away; merely copying word for word the text from a scanned image that wouldn't automatically translate.

Her mom had recently had a stroke from indulging in the drink, and she needed support. **Money**. So, while Harleen wanted to devote all of her time towards her college degree, she was stuck at this soul-sucking computer, in a small windowless box with dry air that often gave her nosebleeds. The chair that she'd sat in for hours was crushing her organs: much different from her limber high school days. The money wasn't much, but it was enough to get her and her mother by. Her father had gone to get smokes and never returned when she was six.

She didn't really have aspirations, she was just following the status quo: being a good girl and doing what her mother and society would have wanted her to do. Possibly what her dad would have wanted; not like she'd ever know. She had contemplated suicide in this seemingly pointless life: spending hours without sunlight, focused on the computer until her eyes strained, formatting some paper about sales that would make no difference in the world fifty years on. Let alone tomorrow.

What would her life be like anyway, living with a mother that would gargle commands from drooping lips? One that desperately clung to her daughter's pencil skirt and gasped for death from a life that had lingered **far** too long? The weight on her back was keeping her underwater. It was hard to breathe. If this was what life was like then she might as well give in and watch the fish swim. _How would she do it?_ Stick her head in an oven? Leave the car running? Slit her wrists like some Emo chick? Would she bring her mother, or leave her out in the cold?

Suddenly, there was a loud **BANG!** at the office door. _Did Larry forget the code to the keypad again?_

Then, it sounded like a cannon, leaving her ears ringing as shrapnel and wood fragments blew over her cubicle walls.

She couldn't see much, due to her box-like cubicle bunker. _Who would want to attack some side street nobody concerned with sales?_

It was then that she recalled asking herself how her greasy boss could afford the suits and variety of cars he showed up in. _That rat bastard_ was in the **mob**! She didn't know whether to laugh or kick him in the balls. As she swiveled her chair to address this matter, she was met with the point of a knife gleaming in the fluorescent light.

She could feel her heart racing as she followed the metal back to a purple robed arm and a padded suit shoulder. The man's wet looking hair seemed as if it had been dyed with lime Koolaid. She continued to shift her gaze to the charcoal rimmed eyes that watched her carefully and the Glasgow smile that widened slowly around his smoker's teeth.

_What made him so happy?_

Her smile and pupils had expanded at his appearance. She wasn't afraid to die, in fact, she welcomed it.

Her heart wasn't pumping in fear, it was exhilaration.

She was looking in a mirror, towards the kindred chaos of her soul.

Her body piqued for sensation as the point of his knife brushed the corner of her mouth, clinking against her teeth and gums, moving outward in the formation of her grin. The clown pulled back the front of his purple lapel with one hand. Harleen found herself panting in anticipation as they both looked down at the pistol protruding from the lip of his pants, behind the clasp of his suspender.

He looked back into her shinning blue eyes, questioning. She nodded in excited acceptance. That would be a quicker ordeal.

He folded up the knife and carefully placed it in his chest pocket, aside a flower.

She became distantly aware of the gunshots around her. In her head she said a fond farewell to her withering office plant.

Harleen could feel the warm liquid seeping down her cheek from where his knife had been. It must have been sharp as a razor. She suddenly felt a jealous pang, wishing someone would have shined her and sharpened her against this world. Against Gotham.

The man placed a leather-gloved finger on the trigger, raising the gun.

Her eyes were tearing at the gift she had been given as she watched the stranger intently, devoutly watching her. A fevered blush came to her face from the inspection.

At the clicking of the trigger, she closed her eyes, at peace.

**BANG!**

That's all that was written in some comic font on a red flag in the barrel. She took in a sharp breath and looked back in confusion.

His breath echoed hers as his body twisted backward in laughter. His hand on his forehead, slapping at his thigh; the red flag wavering with his movements. Harleen sat there in awe as he watched her, walking backwards through the bent entrance of her cubicle, dancing deftly around the bodies of her slain coworkers.

The sounds of his fading laughter and the approaching sirens were his only goodbye.


End file.
